


Of Curses and Their Breaking

by hockeyallthehockey



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Demi-male Characters, Handwavey Biology, M/M, Minor Character Death, tw: miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockeyallthehockey/pseuds/hockeyallthehockey
Summary: The kingdom rejoices at the news that Crown Prince Evgeni Vladimirovich and his Prince Consort, Sidney Patrick, are expecting their first child. That joy is cut short by tragedy. In the wake of a horrible loss comes the news that the Prince Consort has been cursed. Someone has brought dark magic to bear against House Malkin, and Evgeni won't rest until he finds whoever is responsible.





	Of Curses and Their Breaking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ljummen (Vendelin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vendelin/gifts).

> I hope this is a good read, and that I've caught plenty of the elements ljummen indicated they wanted. It was a lot of fun to write! Thank you to my beta (to be named later) and to the Spooky Mods for coordinating this. :)
> 
> Please see the end notes for more details about the tags.

It was late summer, just two weeks after his nineteenth birthday and just one week after his future husband’s eighteenth, when the Crown Prince of Magnitogorsk, Evgeni Vladimirovich of house Malkin, married Sidney Patrick of House Crosby, son of Duke Troy of Halifax in the Kingdom of New Scotland.

The two had been betrothed for several years, and had known each other for nearly a decade, and while it was a political marriage, the two were very fond of each other.

That didn’t stop Evgeni from being as jittery as a new colt on the morning of his wedding day.

“If you don’t stand still, I’m going to force vodka down your throat, and then you’ll be drunk at your own wedding,” Sasha - Lord Aleksandr, Evgeni’s oldest friend and the captain of his personal guard - told him, as he tried to properly arrange Evgeni’s formal garb. “It’s as if you don’t know that this is going to go perfectly, Zhenya. Sidney adores you, and you adore him. Why are you so fidgety?”

Zhenya closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m getting married, Sasha.”

“Yes, to one of your dear friends, to whom you’ve been betrothed for years,” Sasha replied as he tweaked the sash across Zhenya’s chest. “Relax. It’s going to be perfect.”

****

In another room, halfway across the castle, Sidney was just as anxious. “But what if…” he began, for at least the twentieth time that morning, and his mother laughed quietly as Marc-Andre - Flower, Sidney’s demi-in-waiting - rolled his eyes.

“What if there are bears?” Flower interrupted, and Sidney blinked at him.

“Bears? That’s ridiculous, there won’t be bears.”

Flower arched an eyebrow at him. “It’s no more ridiculous than any of the other things you’re worrying about, Sid,” he said, and Duchess Trina laughed softly again. “You’re known the Prince since you were nine. You’re good friends. Nothing is going to go wrong. Stop worrying.”

“But what if…” Sidney began and Flower actually clapped a hand over his mouth. Sidney blinked at him again, and then his eyes squinted up and Flower yanked his hand back.

“You licked me!”

Sidney shrugged, and a grin tugged at his lips. “You put your hand over my mouth.”

Duchess Trina stepped in to keep things moving along. Sidney’s demigown was elabourate and complicated, and there was only half an hour until they had to leave for the ceremony.

****

Later, after it was all said and done, Zhenya couldn’t remember most of the wedding ceremony. He could clearly recall the moment he saw Sidney step into the great hall, beautiful as always but truly resplendent in his demigown.

He remembered taking Sidney’s hand and turning to the high priest. He remembered the smile on Sidney’s face when he spoke his promises. He remembered their first kiss as husbands.

And he remembered turning to face the assembled nobles and dignitaries as the high priest announced them as a married couple for the first time, Their Royal Highnesses Crown Prince Evgeni Vladimirovich and Prince Consort Sidney Patrick.

Sidney’s smile was enough to light up Zhenya’s world, and he drew his husband into another kiss as the crowd applauded, protocol be damned.

****

Two months later, the kingdom again rejoiced as the Prince Consort’s pregnancy was announced. Betting pools were created, people placing wagers on whether the baby would be male, female, or demi. The castle was abuzz with happy anticipation. Sidney’s parents sent a courier with some family heirlooms, including a rocking chair that had been used by every firstborn Crosby demi for several generations.

Sidney made it through the exhaustion and nausea of the first three months, and then two more months of feeling much better and wanting to do more than the physicians wanted him to do.

And then, nearly six months into his pregnancy, Sidney woke in the middle of the night in agony, his thighs and the bedding drenched in blood. Zhenya called for the physicians, waking half the castle with his bellows. But it was too late, and the babe was stillborn, too small, his tiny body not yet ready to survive outside the womb. He was a boy, not a demi, and had he survived, he would have been Zhenya’s heir.

The physicians worked into the early morning to ensure that the Prince Consort would survive, and would be able to bear more children. By the time the sun’s rays crept over the eastern walls, Sidney was resting quietly, and the physicians asked Zhenya’s permission to cast a light sleeping spell on him, to ensure he would rest more easily.

The baby was cleaned and kept in a bassinet, dressed in tiny white bunting in which he would be buried, and the physicians cast a stasis spell on him, so that there would be time to prepare for the funeral. Zhenya alternated between sitting beside Sidney and standing over the bassinet. His parents were in and out throughout the day, both of them devastated, as Zhenya himself was.

When Sidney woke, late in the day, he reached for Zhenya and they both cried themselves out. After he ate something light - at Zhenya’s urging - he climbed out of bed and made his way to the bassinet, and Zhenya held him as he cried again.

That evening, the chief physician came to see them again, working more healing magic to help Sidney along in his recovery. And then, as Sidney dozed, the physician drew Zhenya aside.

“Your Royal Highness,” the man said, glancing over at Sidney and the bassinet, “I believe there is more to this than unlucky happenstance. Last night, as we were working to aid His Royal Highness, my colleagues and I found ourselves having to work around…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Dark magic.”

Zhenya actually recoiled, and his gaze darted over to where Sidney was sleeping. “Is he…”

The physician held up both hands. “I believe you should speak with someone more skilled in these matters than I am, Your Highness.”

Zhenya immediately sent for the high priest, and within the hour four witches were gathered around the Prince Consort’s bed. Zhenya stood just outside their cast circle, pacing and fidgeting, but there wasn’t anything he could do.

Marc-Andre stepped into the room, his footsteps silent, and caught Zhenya’s attention. Zhenya looked to the bed again, then took a deep breath and made his way to the doorway. “What is it?”

Flower dipped into a low bow. “Your Highness, the King and Queen are here, and wish to speak with you.”

Zhenya glanced towards the bed again, and then nodded and stepped past Flower into the sitting room. His mother immediately came forward to embrace him, and his father stepped forward as well, clapping a hand to his shoulder.

“Dark magic?” the King asked, his expression like stone. “Someone has set dark magic against our family?”

Zhenya let himself be held, finding some comfort in his mother’s arms for a moment, and then kissed her cheek and straightened up. “The priest and his seconds are working with him right now. I don’t know any more than you do, yet. Just that the physicians had to work around dark magic when they were trying to… to save Sidney’s life last night.” He cleared his throat and wet his lips. “Someone tried to kill my husband, and... and my son. Whoever it is, I’ll kill them myself.”

****

“Your Majesties, Your Royal Highness, the Prince Consort has been cursed.” The high priest delivered the news with an even tone, but his exhaustion was clear on his face. “We have not been able to break it.”

Zhenya spun on his heel, one fist raised, and only Sasha’s hand on his arm kept him from punching the wall. King Vladimir glanced at him with sympathy, and then turned back to the high priest. “Tell me everything that you have been able to discover,” he said. “Someone has murdered my grandson and tried to murder my son’s husband.”

The King’s council convened within the hour. Zhenya almost sent Sasha in his place, but he knew his presence was required. He kissed Sidney gently, stroking back his hair, and made his way to the council chambers. Those most trusted Dukes and Earls who were at court were there, along with the high priest and his seconds, and several other high-ranking nobles who had special favour within the King’s court.

When all were gathered, the King stood, and nodded to Zhenya. “Our son has news for the council,” he said. “News of a most serious nature.”

Zhenya stood, as well, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “My lords, thank you for coming to council so late. As you are no doubt aware, we…” His voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “The Prince Consort suffered a miscarriage in the early hours of this morning. He is resting and should recover, thanks to the royal physicians. However.” He let his gaze sweep the table. “However, we have discovered that someone has placed a curse on him.”

Almost everyone at the table began to speak at once, anger and horror crossing their faces. The words ‘murder’ and ‘treason’ rose above the din, and Zhenya thumped his fist against the table to try to restore order.

“My lords, if you please!” When that didn’t work, he drew a deep breath, and even the King straightened up at his near-bellow. “Enough!”

In the sudden silence, Zhenya took another steadying breath. “My lords, we have a murderer amoung us. Perhaps even someone in this very room. I make this my solemn vow, I will not rest until those responsible for this are dead.” He looked at the faces around the table again, and then gave a short nod. “My lord Lemieux,” he said, nodding to the high priest. “If you would tell the council what you have learned?”

****

The council met until the wee hours of the morning, and although Zhenya received hourly updates on Sidney - he was fine, resting, the physicians were pleased with his progress - he was desperately glad to finally escape the council chambers and return to his apartment, and his husband.

Sidney was sitting up in bed, when he returned, and Zhenya smiled to see him strong enough to be feeding himself. “Hello, my little star,” he said, coming over to the bed. “Are you feeling better?”

Sidney was still pale, having lost so much blood, but he managed a small smile for Zhenya. “A bit, yes, thank you. The council has met?”

Zhenya sat on the bed, and settled a hand on Sidney’s knee through the bedding. “Yes. Eat your soup, love. The council has met, and we have a plan. I don’t… _like_ it, precisely, and I don’t expect that you will like it, either, but I believe it will work.”

Sidney picked up his spoon. “Tell me?” he asked.

Zhenya waited until Sidney started eating again before he spoke. “There will be a gathering for the…” He glanced over at the bassinet and then shook himself and turned back to Sidney. “For the funeral.”

Sidney looked over at the bassinet, too, and had to close his eyes. “Yes, of course,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

Zhenya reached to cup Sidney’s cheek, and then continued. “We will make the announcement that the curse has been broken. Whoever placed it is likely to be here for the funeral, as they were surely here for the wedding. When they learn that the curse has been supposedly broken, we hope they will try to place another curse on you. Only this time, we will be waiting.”

Sidney listened, and then lifted his head and nodded. “It’s a good plan,” he agreed, and Zhenya could see his fear, but also his determination. “The funeral will be in a week, to allow for travel?”

Zhenya nodded with a small smile. “Yes, in a week. Goddess willing, you’ll be feeling well enough by then.”

Sidney nodded again. “I’ll be ready,” he said, a promise to himself as much as anything else. “After we capture them, and they lift the curse, you’ll kill them?”

Zhenya’s little smile flashed briefly to a vicious grin. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

****

That very morning, the word went out, riders taking all directions to bring news of the Prince Consort’s lost pregnancy and the funeral to be held in one week. Sidney’s parents were notified, of course, and they immediately sent word that they would be there.

Over the next few days, with the help of the physicians, Sidney grew stronger, and by the day of the funeral he was, while not fully recovered, at least well enough to attend at Zhenya’s side. The tiny prince, whom they named Dmitri Evgenyevich, was laid to rest, and Sidney spent the entirety of the ritual and entombing in tears. He certainly wasn’t the only one.

Afterwards, the King made the announcement that had been agreed upon. “My lords and ladies, we thank you for your presence at this most solemn event. However, we have good news to impart. The curse that was placed upon the Prince Consort has been broken, and he will again be able to bear children.”

That prompted a rousing round of applause - the Prince Consort was well beloved, as were the Royal Family as a whole. Sidney let the sound wash over him, calming him as he steeled himself for what was - hopefully - to follow. He and Zhenya took supper with the King and Queen, and the Duke and Duchess of Halifax, and then Zhenya saw Sidney back to their apartment, as all was made ready in secret.

Several hours later, Zhenya left the apartments, and the Royal wing, apparently to walk the gardens on his own. In short order, he was back, but not visibly so, having taken several hidden corridors to return to the apartment along with the court’s most powerful witches, and both his and Sidney’s personal guards.

To all outward appearances, Marc-Andre was in his own little room, closed away, and Sidney was otherwise alone, sitting up in bed, nålbinding in his hands.

For the first hour, all was quiet. Sidney had to force himself to not look towards where Zhenya and the others were hiding, and focus on the wool and needle in his hands. And then, as the second hour wore on, a figure slipped out of the shadows near the balcony door.

Sidney sat up straighter when he saw the movement, and his nålbinding dropped to his lap as his fingers went cold. “Who is there?” he called, the tremor in his voice not at all an act.

The figure stepped closer, into the light cast by the lit sconces nearer the bed, and Sidney gasped to see the Duke of Nehal. “Your Grace?”

Bettman stepped closer, his patronizing smile almost a sneer on what might once have been a handsome face. “Your Highness,” he replied. “Such a shame about the child. A shame that you survived, as well, but that can be remedied.”

Sidney’s eyes widened. “Your Grace, what… it was you? It was. You cursed me, you murdered my child.”

Bettman laughed. “I meant to murder you both, you wretched thing.“

“But why?” Sidney asked, knowing the others needed to hear the truth. “What have I ever done to you?”

“You exist, and you have the Prince’s heart,” Bettman spit. “With you out of the way, my niece will have a clear path to him.”

As soon as the words were spoken, Bettman froze, held in place by invisible bonds, and Zhenya stepped out of hiding, followed by the guards and witches who had been hiding with him. The witches’ focus was on Bettman, holding him captive, and the guards’ swords were shortly all directed at the man, as well. Zhenya stood in front of him, his own sword drawn.

“You have committed murder, and treason, Bettman,” he growled. “The only reason I haven’t killed you where you stand is the curse on my Consort.”

Bettman’s mouth curved into an evil smile, which faded as Zhenya continued.

“Lift the curse, and I will see your niece kept safe for the rest of her natural life. Refuse, and I will see you tortured before you are granted the mercy of death, and your niece will be condemned to death by hanging.”

Bettman bared his teeth, but the threat of torture - and his niece’s death - was enough to make his decision for him. He gave a tight nod - all he could do, really - and Zhenya in turn nodded to the witches, who released him. He straightened his shoulders, glared at Zhenya, and then turned towards Sidney, bringing up his hands.

The point of Zhenya’s sword was suddenly at his throat. “If you harm him, if you do anything other than remove the curse, I will cut your throat. Then my physicians will heal you and I’ll cut it again, and again, until I decide to let you die. Do you understand me, Bettman?”

The other man froze again, and then gave a short nod. “I understand quite well, Your Highness.”

Zhenya stayed where he was, as Bettman began to weave a spell with his hands. Sidney gasped, bringing his hands to his belly and looking down, and then gave a little cry and a shudder. Zhenya pressed his sword against Bettman’s throat, but Sidney just exhaled with a little moan.

The high priest quickly stepped in, and after a few long minutes during which he very thoroughly checked for any lingering traces of the curse, he straightened and nodded to Zhenya. “The curse is lifted, Your Highness,” he confirmed.

Zhenya looked from Sidney to the high priest, and then back to Sidney. And then, without looking away, he drew his sword across Bettman’s throat. “You will die here, where my son died, you murdering monster.”

Bettman’s hands came up to clutch at his throat as blood began to pour from the wound. The physicians did nothing to aid him, as he dropped to his knees and then fell backwards, horrible gasping and gurgling sounds emitting from his severed windpipe. Zhenya stood over him and drove his sword through Bettman’s heart. Death came swiftly after that, and Zhenya stood and watched until Bettman went utterly still and lifeless. Only then did he wipe his sword on Bettman’s clothes and hand it off to Sasha, before turning to Sidney and gathering him into his arms.

****

Epilogue

“He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Zhenya stroked one finger along Nikita’s downy cheek, as his newborn son sucked on his own tiny fist. Sidney, exhausted but absolutely beaming, couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.

“He is. Goddess willing, he’ll be healthy and strong, like his father.”

“Like his mother! I couldn’t have done what you did today, little star. That took a strength I simply don’t possess.” Zhenya took his gaze from his son to look at his husband, and then leaned in to kiss him gently. “Thank you, Sidney. Thank you for bearing our child.”

Sidney kissed him back, and then Nikita woke and demanded their attention, which they gave him gladly.

He was strong and healthy, like his mother _and_ his father. A year later, he toddled into the room to meet his tiny newborn sister, and a year and a half after that, a demi brother. They were all healthy, all of the children that followed, and each time, the kingdom rejoiced.

**Author's Note:**

> The Prince Consort miscarries a pregnancy at nearly six months. The man responsible for it is killed on screen.
> 
> Demi-males are persons who present as primarily male, but are able to bear children via 'handwavey biology'.


End file.
